


Fool's Holiday

by liamthebastard



Series: When It Gets Cold [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Christmas, M/M, Mentions of the pack, happyish, well...
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-29
Updated: 2014-11-29
Packaged: 2018-02-27 09:58:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2688590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liamthebastard/pseuds/liamthebastard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For years Derek pushed Stiles away, refused to answer his phone. Now it's Christmas, and Derek has finally found his way home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fool's Holiday

**Author's Note:**

> This is literally titled "Angsty Christmas Shit" in my writing folder.

Derek hesitates a moment at the door of the large house just off the Preserve. He hasn’t been back here in years, enough that the house has been given a fresh coat of paint and a new bed of flowers now dormant or dead. He takes a deep breath and raises a hand to knock. Inside, he hears familiar laughter and a voice calling for him to wait just a second. 

Moments later the front door pops open, leaking warm air and the smell of mulled wine, coffee, and pumpkin pie into the night. Stiles is silhouetted in the doorway, warm light pouring around him and making him glow. There’s a Santa hat perching jauntily on his head and his cheeks are warm both from the sweater he’s wearing and the alcohol Derek can smell on him. His face is bright and happy for a second, but the moment Stiles registers who’s at the door, his face falls and goes furious. There’s an awkward silence between them for a moment, then Derek speaks.

“Stiles, wait don’t-” No amount of werewolf speed or strength could compete with the fury Stiles used to slam the front door. Derek hears the lock whack into place as well as a half dozen different deadbolts. “Stiles, please,” Derek tries. “I- I’m sorry! I just want to come home.”

On the other side of the door, he can hear Scott and Stiles talking. 

“ _Dude, c’mon, it’s Christmas Eve, and it’s cold out_ ,” Scott says. 

“ _I don’t give a fuck what day it is, Scott, he’s not coming in. This is my house, he’s not welcome here,_ ” Stiles rages. Derek can almost smell his anger, like ozone and fire crackling around the house. 

Before he hears anymore, Derek steps back to his car and drives away. Of course he wouldn’t be welcomed back. Not after what he’d done.

 

*

 

_“Derek, c’mon, it’s Christmas, at least smile for the picture,” Stiles laughed, holding the camera out in front of them. Derek just scowled harder, and Stiles tried not to grin at how cute it looked simply on instinct. Then he remembered he didn’t have to, and his grin got even wider. “Derek, one picture, that’s all I’m asking,” Stiles cajoled. When Derek didn’t respond, Stiles leaned over and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek, snapping the photo just as his lips brushed stubble._

_He flipped the camera over to see the picture and crowed in victory. Derek was smiling, a tender look in his eyes as he glanced sideways to watch Stiles kiss him. As a reward for his long-suffering, Stiles granted Derek a lengthy kiss. Or would have, if Scott hadn’t made loud gagging noises the moment tongues made an appearance._

_“Shut it, Scotty, it’s_ Christmas _!” Stiles said. “It’s all about family and love and good will!” Scott just scoffed and let Allison rub a soothing hand up and down his arm._

_“Still can’t believe you got me to wear the hat with that line,” Derek grumbled._

_Stiles turned to him with a smile, and reached out to straighten the Santa hat on Derek’s head. “You do it because you love me, you great sourwolf,” he said frankly, flicking the bobble at the end of the hat._

_Derek slid his arms around Stiles’s waist and pulled him in for another kiss. “You’re not wrong,” he said. Stiles laughed._

 

*

 

“After all these years, he just shows up! Like nothing ever happened, like he didn’t fucking cut and run like a coward, like I didn’t call him every fucking holiday to try and get him to call back until finally I just gave the fuck up because it was like talking to a _ghost_!” Stiles is _furious_. All he wants is for Derek to leave Beacon Hills and never come back. To spend the rest of his life alone and waiting for a call Stiles is never gonna place. Or maybe to just bury himself alive somewhere so he could feel the same crushing pain and sadness Stiles has been living with the past _three years_. 

He says as much to Scott, who has stopped being shocked by the violence of Stiles’s anger. Since the close call with the Alpha Pack, they’ve all been more prone to violent outbursts. It’s been years, but it still affects them. Training with his magic was supposed to help, but clearly, it isn’t. 

“Maybe he can explain,” Scott suggests. “He wouldn’t come back without a reason.”

“Yeah I know why he came back,” Stiles snaps. “He came back because he’s gotten bored chasing his own tail and now wants something familiar. But give him two months, he’ll get bored again, and I’m not gonna risk that. And I’m _not_ going to forgive him.”

Lydia pats him on the shoulder, loaning him some comfort. The rest of his pack is curved around him, standing or leaning against the counters of the kitchen. Isaac, Erica, and Boyd are keeping their distance; when Stiles gets bad like this he knows he tends to lash out at the people he still thinks of as _Derek’s_ Betas. He tries not to, but it happens.

“Stiles, don’t you think you might be being a bit harsh?” Allison suggests.

“Hell no, I do not. He is the last person I want to see this time of year,” Stiles hisses. Allison holds up her hands in surrender, and finally, _finally_ the pack drops the subject. 

 

*

 

 _“Hey Derek, it’s me. I know you’re getting these messages, otherwise your inbox would’ve stopped taking them. It’s just- it snowed last night. First snow of the year. We’re putting up the decorations today. We were just-_ I _was just wondering if you’d be back soon. Your stocking is up. Just… let us know.” Stiles’s tinny voice sighed, and the phone beeped, indicating the end of the message. Derek reached over and calmly erased it._

 _“Derek, it’s me again. Happy new year, I suppose. We missed you, the whole pack. Me especially.” Stiles’s voice stopped, and when he spoke again it was shaky. “You, you_ promised _me, Derek. Don’t break this promise too.” Again, he erased the message._

 _“Hey,” Stiles’s voice was short and clipped. “I don’t know what the hell you’re doing out there, but you need to come home._ I _need you home. It’s_ Christmas _for God’s sake, Derek, just come home.” Erase._

_The messages went on and on, two year’s worth of holidays and birthdays, until finally the last message came up._

_”Fuck you, Hale. Fuck you. You’re just being selfish, more selfish than I thought you could be. So fuck you. If you’re gonna live like there’s no one else in your life, then there won’t be.”_

_Derek’s finger hovered over the button to erase it too. Instead, he kept it. Hit replay. Listened to it until he had it memorized, could hear the words in his sleep. And still he kept it. Even after he’d decided to go back to Beacon Hills, the message stayed on his phone._

 

*

 

Somehow, Derek’s at a church. He’s pretending he doesn’t know why he’s here, in the middle of the night on Christmas Eve. He’s also pretending that he isn’t keeping one ear cocked for the sound of a Jeep he isn’t even sure still runs. He’s there for maybe half an hour, head bowed and elbows on his knees with his hands clasped, when he hears someone else come in. 

“You fucked up big time,” Scott says finally, sitting alongside him. “He doesn’t come here anymore, you know,” he adds when Derek doesn’t reply. 

Derek shrugs. It’s fitting, that Derek is acting on out of date information to try and apologize to the only important person left in his life outside of his sister. He won’t look at Scott, so he stares at his hands instead.

“He waited, you know. Is still waiting, really. And none of us really get it. You left him, left _us_ , like it was nothing. Just vanished into the dust, like you weren’t part of our lives. And we all got mad, and cussed you out, and badmouthed you for a bit. But Stiles wouldn’t do it. He wouldn’t heal. Instead he just bottled it all up. And now I know why,” Scott chuckles but there’s no real humor there. 

The Alpha stays quiet, until finally Derek asks, “Why?”

Scott stands up. “So he could hurt you like you hurt us,” Scott says, and then he leaves. Derek thinks about following him, but doesn’t. As he sits, he can hear the clock tower in town chiming midnight. 

It’s Christmas, and Derek is alone.

 

*

 

_“Derek!” Stiles shrieked, startled by the werewolf’s sudden appearance directly beside him. The last time he’d looked, Derek had been across the room with Boyd, the both of them silently judging the rest of the group’s holiday festivities. The pack had all gathered together for Christmas Eve, an extension of the old Stilinski tradition of waiting up until midnight to ring in Christmas Day. Stiles’s mom had loved it, and so Stiles did too._

_Derek didn’t say anything to Stiles at first. He actually just looked confused. Then after a few seconds Derek’s face settled into resolve, and the former Alpha darted forward. Their lips pressed together once, dry and chaste, and before Stiles could even process it, Derek had backed up._

_“Mistletoe,” he grunted, pointing up at the doorway Stiles was leaning against. Sure enough, a sprig of mistletoe was hanging above them._

_Stiles grinned. “Surely you can do better than that,” he challenged._

_Derek’s answering smile was wicked, and Stiles pulled him in for another kiss just as the clocks chimed midnight and the rest of the room broke out into cheers._

 

*

 

Stiles can’t sleep that night. Even after his friends go to sleep, some of them passing out on the couches around the living room, a few actually managing to get to the guest rooms upstairs, Stiles is restless. He finally gives up on sleep altogether. He steps outside into the snow, glancing at his phone to check the time. Just before one a.m. The pack had managed to stay awake until just after midnight, toasting in Christmas as was tradition before the rest of the pack had fallen asleep. The night before was a full moon, so they were all still pretty tired from it. Stiles, unfortunately, was plenty awake. 

He drives carefully on the icy roads, missing his Jeep even though she was always terrible in the ice. Soon, he’s back at the church his mom always visited for midnight mass. The church had stopped putting it on a few years after Claudia’s death, but for a while he’d still gone by, but during the werewolf debacles that were his high school career, late night trips alone were too dangerous. So the church had fallen by the wayside, another casualty to the supernatural lifestyle Stiles led. 

The parking lot is empty when Stiles pulls in, but the church door is unlocked like it always is. Stiles creeps in, letting a bit of his frustrated anger leak out as magic to light the candles in the small chapel. Stiles approaches the altar, and kneels in front of it, He clasps his hands, and moves to speak, feeling awkward and foolish. 

“Hey, mom. Merry Christmas. I’m sorry I took so long to come back here. Just, things around me got crazy. And then they settled, but things _in_ me got crazy.” He pauses, and a dry, humorless laugh escapes him. “Did- did you know? About the magic? I mean, maybe you meant to tell me, if it came up. I get why you didn’t tell Dad, he _still_ doesn’t get it, and his son spends two weeks out of the year away with actual druids training. Hell, he’s seen me doing magic, and he still has a hard time with it.” Stiles takes a shaky breath. 

“Maybe you didn’t know,” Stiles says quietly. “But, god, mom, if you did, I’d feel a whole lot better.”

 

*

 

 _Stiles had asked Derek to come with him somewhere important. Derek had agreed immediately, because Stiles never just_ asked _for something. He acted, and assumed Derek would follow. For him to be asking, it had to be something important._

_Derek drove, following the instructions Stiles gave him until they pulled up to a cemetery. He froze, turned to Stiles to ask if he’d missed a turn somewhere, but Stiles shook his head._

_“I want you to meet my mom,” Stiles said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world._

_“Stiles, it’s freezing outside, you’re gonna be cold,” Derek warned. Stiles always got cold so easily, and while he was wearing a coat, Derek knew they’d be outside all of five minutes before he started to shiver._

_The younger man turned to him, his face lined with sadness and grief. “This was her favorite time of year.”_

 

*

 

Derek creeps forward quietly, kneeling a few feet away from Stiles now that he’s done praying. He can smell when Stiles notices his presence, because the air suddenly smells like ozone and spice, less of anger and more like magic. 

He hears Stiles take a slow breath. “You have exactly two minutes to talk, and then I’m leaving,” Stiles warns. Derek nods, quelling the small amount of hope that leaps in his chest. Stiles is willing to hear him talk, not to actually speak _to_ him. 

“I’m so, so sorry. I’m selfish, I’m cruel, and I have no right to expect anything from you. I pushed you away, refused to come back, and I didn’t even give you a reason, because all of them sounded weak even to me. I fucked up. But if you’ll still have me around, I’ll make it up to you in any way you want me to. I swear, I’m more than the promises I broke, Stiles. I’m sorry.” Derek’s not normally a wordy person, even with Stiles, but the words spill out of him, trying anything to explain how torn up he feels inside. 

Stiles doesn’t look impressed. “And where the hell have you been for three years? No, scratch that, why did you leave in the first place?” His voice sounds a little funny on the last question, but Derek chalks it up to anger. 

Derek shrugs. “I got… scared,” he admits.

“Scared? _You_ got scared?” Stiles replies, furious. “Like I wasn’t terrified every fucking day with you? Worried that you wouldn’t come back, that something would tear us apart, that one of us would get killed or worse and the other would have to keep going alone. But I faced it, I dealt with it, and you ran away.” 

“I did the only thing I know how!” Derek exclaims. He doesn’t know why he’s trying to defend himself, he knows he’s in the wrong, but Stiles gets under his skin and provokes him like no one else does. “I did my best!”

“Oh really, Derek? Because while you were off ‘doing your best’ I was here, dealing with all sorts of shit, _and_ worrying about you constantly,” Stiles shoots back. He stands up so fast his coat and outer shirt fall off, revealing the muscle shirt underneath it that Stiles had always liked to use for pajamas. 

But what really catches Derek’s eyes are the tattoos. 

They’re thick lines, bands of black swirling and twisting over Stiles’s arms and up across his shoulders and peeking through the low neckline. Derek assumes they covered Stiles’s chest and back as well. 

“What are those,” Derek asks lowly. 

Stiles laughs, high and sharp and not at all right. “These are what happen when a druid doesn’t have an anchor, someone to help steady their magic. This,” Stiles says, tugging off his muscle shirt and turning to showcase the tattoos, and the scars they cover, in all their glory, “is what happens when you leave. I have to pick up the pieces, in whatever way I can. _I_ have to keep people _safe_!” 

“I didn’t know,” Derek replies, stepping towards Stiles like he’s in a dream. Stiles steps back, yanking his shirts and coat back on. 

“No,” Stiles says, his scent dropping down from its fire-hot anger. “You didn’t. But you would if you’d stayed.”

Derek just nods. “I should’ve stayed. I should’ve been braver. I want to be brave for you. I want to be better. And that’s what scares me,” Derek says. 

“Newsflash, Derek, our life is fucking scary, and if you want to come back, you’re going to have to deal with it,” Stiles snaps. He sounds calmer though, his anger always did burn hot and fast. Once he’d yelled and screamed and felt like he’d been heard, he was quick to reconcile. Derek steps forward, reaching a hand out towards Stiles’s face, but he stops just before touching him. Stiles tilts his face into Derek’s palm, almost like it’s an instinct, and Derek instinctively moves closer to him until they’re sharing air and Derek rests his forehead against Stiles’s. 

“I’m sorry I left,” Derek whispers. “I’m sorry I left you.”

When he looks, Stiles’s eyes are full of tears, but none of them have spilled over yet. “I’m just glad you’re back,” Stiles finally responds, his voice thick. Stiles leans in like he’s about to kiss him, but Derek pulls back just a breath. 

“Don’t,” Derek starts, then pauses. He thinks about how he wants to put it. “If you’re not gonna take me back, Stiles, don’t. If you think we can’t do this, or if you don’t want to try, don’t kiss me. I don’t want to have another excuse to run, and I don’t want you to do it just to give me a reason to stay.”

“Can’t I just kiss you because I love you, and I missed you?” Stiles asks, his smile watery. 

Derek lets out a relieved laugh. “Yeah,” he says, nodding. “Yeah, that’s a good reason.” He leans into it when Stiles’s lips press against his, falling into the familiar taste of Stiles. He’s forgotten how good this feels - no, that’s not true. He’d _tried_ to forget how good this feels. It’d been too painful to deal with, knowing what he’d left behind. But now he’s back, and Stiles is in his arms again, and they’re kissing softly. 

It’s not like what Derek thought it would’ve been, in the few moments he’d let himself think about coming back and being with Stiles again. Instead of fierce and frantic, it’s quiet and tender. It’s exactly what they both need. 

Stiles ends the kiss, but doesn’t pull away from Derek any further. They share a small smile, and Derek hasn’t forgotten how beautiful Stiles’s smiles are. 

Things aren’t fixed between them. Not by a long shot. But for the first time, Derek feels hopeful. He’s with Stiles again, with a chance at amends. 

Stiles steps toward the door, but he pauses and reaches back for Derek. Derek takes his hand and lets Stiles pull him in. “C’mon,” Stiles says. “Let’s go home.”

It’s Christmas, and Derek finally has a home again.

**Author's Note:**

> This all stems from a fic I wanted to write about mage!Stiles with tattoos. I shouldn't be allowed to write things while listening to Christmas music. 
> 
> Inspiration stems from the songs 'Yule Shoot Your Eye Out' by Fall Out Boy and 'Fool's Holiday' by All Time Low.


End file.
